La
Strada is Federico Fellini's moving masterpiece that explores
the soul's eternal conflict between the heart and mind. Zampano (Anthony
Quinn) is a cruel, traveling carnival strongman who buys his assistant,
a simple minded young woman named Gelsomina (Giulietta Masina), from
her poverty-stricken family. Gelsomina is innocent and childlike (Masina's
exquisite performance is as comic as it is heartbreaking). She does
Zampano's bidding without question or resistance, even though he is
abusive to her. He abandons her in the street to spend the night with
a woman. He lashes her with a tree branch when she misquotes her introductory
lines. He forces her to steal from a convent. Yet, she remains faithful
and uncomplaining. It is a relationship akin to Vladimir and Estragon
in Samuel Beckett'sWaiting for Godot:
inasmuch as one resents being with the other, there is also a realization
that one needs the other. But soon, their fragile relationship is
disrupted when Gelsomina meets The Fool (Richard Basehart), a witty
circus clown. He mercilessly taunts the oafish Zampano, who can only
react with violence. Nevertheless, he is kind and reassuring to the
gentle, suffering Gelsomina, offering her a means to leave Zampano.
It is the rivalry over her that precipitates the film's inevitable
tragedy. La Strada is one of Fellini's
most accessible and humane works, a film of understated beauty and
profound insight.

The
theme of a soul torn between the heart and mind is prevalent in Fellini's
films. Visually, he uses the imagery of a man suspended between the
earth and sky (In the opening sequence of La
Dolce Vita, a helicopter transports a statue of Jesus Christ).
Note the upward camera angle used to film Zampano's inane chain trick.
The crucifix is prominently held aloft during a vigil procession.
The Fool is first shown on a tightrope, performing his high-wire act.
The effect is subtle; the implications are devastating. There is no
triumph in such a struggle for the soul, only consequences, and a
resignation to the pain of existence.

A
bishop and a priest are chauffeured to the rural home of two peasant
sisters. They recount the story of an unnamed man who has made a deathbed
confession of burying a treasure chest along with a murdered victim
by a tree in the middle of their property. The confessor has bequeathed
the hidden bounty to the landowners, in exchange for 500 masses to
be held in his memory. It is a fantastic tale that is made plausible
by the seeming benevolence of the two clergymen. But these men are
not emissaries from the Catholic Church. An earlier scene shows the
middle-aged Augusto (Broderick Crawford) and the younger Carlo (Richard
Basehart) (who goes by the nickname Picasso) preparing for the confidence
game, as the charismatic Roberto (Franco Fabrizi) switches license
plates. The unsuspecting sisters have just surrendered their life
savings to a band of career criminals. And so the ritual of their
existence is revealed: posing as housing officials, selling worthless
watches, bartering inexpensive coats for money and a full tank of
gasoline. Augusto has grown weary of his profession, but has never
known any other life. One day, he encounters his daughter, Patrizia
(Lorella De Luca) on her way home from school. She wants to become
a teacher, but can neither afford the tuition, nor pay the deposit
required to earn a decent wage to fund her studies. Augusto is clearly
devoted to her, but can only make empty promises of support. While
spending the afternoon with Patrizia at a movie theater, he is recognized
by one of his nameless victims, and is promptly sent to jail. Separated
from his daughter, he returns to the familiarity of his disreputable
trade.

The second film in Federico Fellini's trilogy of loneliness, IL
Bidone is a poignant and heartbreaking portrait of an aging
man's redemption from a life of crime and deception. Thematically
similar to the subsequent film of the trilogy, La
Strada, Fellini portrays Augusto's internal conflict through
separate characters: the idealistic Carlo who aspires to make an honest
living as an artist, and the hedonistic Roberto, who searches for
opportunities to be included in every deceptive scheme. As in La
Dolce Vita, Fellini uses the recurrent imagery of elevation
to symbolize the soul torn between personal conscience and decadent
materialism: Carlo calls his devoted wife, Iris (Giulietta Masina),
who waves back to him from their upper floor apartment; Augusto, Carlo,
and Iris ascend the stairs to attend a New Year's Eve party organized
by a career criminal who has amassed his fortune from the art of the
swindle; an injured Augusto attempts to scale the side of a hill.
Inevitably, it is Augusto's love for his daughter that paradoxically
condemns and redeems him. IL Bidone
is a haunting examination of a misguided existence, a profoundly moving
testament of the innate goodness of the human soul.

Nights
of Cabiria is a touching, humorous, and poignant film about
hope and survival. As the first film of the trilogy of loneliness,
Federico Fellini pares the story of an endearing prostitute searching
for love and happiness down to its fundamental substance. The result
is a social criticism that is honest, impartial, and searing. We first
see Cabiria (Giulietta Masina) walking by the lake with a lover who
steals her purse, then throws her into the water. It is a familiar
pattern with the hapless Cabiria: men who exploit her, then abandon
her. She is not morally bankrupt, but deeply spiritual, interminably
optimistic, and trusting. She attempts to project an image that she
is confidently in control. Yet, we see that she is a victim of circumstance.
She resorts to prostitution as a means of income in an economically
depressed city. She is duped by pilgrims professing to witness a miracle.
She is denied an evening with a celebrity when his girlfriend unexpectedly
returns to reconcile. Nights of Cabiria
is a simply told, profoundly affecting film about the misery of existence,
and the triumph of the human spirit.

The
imagery of water is a prevalent theme in Fellini's films. It is the
symbol of catharsis (as in Krzysztof Kieslowski's Blue)
and eternity. (In Fellini's La
Strada, Zampano returns to the tranquil cadence of the sea after
a heartbreaking revelation.) In Nights of
Cabiria, the film begins and ends with water. It is an imagery
that illustrates that life, itself, is cyclical - eternal - as the
human condition. Water is also a symbol of purification. Cabiria's
soul remains untainted, despite her sordid profession (a theme that
echoes the works of such writers as Fyodor Dostoevsky, Gustav Flaubert,
and Jean-Paul Sartre, among others). It is a humanist idea that people
are innately good, but forced by their circumstances into acts of
desperation (a familiar neorealist theme). The result is a powerful
metaphor: a fusion of hope and misery, perseverance and suffering,
a synthesis not unlike life itself.

Few
films have indelibly defined society as caustically and honestly as
Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita. Marcello
Rubini (Marcello Mastroianni), a frustrated writer, is reduced to
tabloid journalism in order to make ends meet. He spends every evening
in Via Veneto - the venerable hotspot for people who want to be seen
- vicariously awaiting the next scandal, party invitation, or sexual
proposition. One evening is spent with an enigmatic woman named Maddalena
(Anouk Aimee), whose dark sunglasses conceal a bruised eye. Her declared
love for Marcello is merely whispered from a distance, deflected by
the reverberating walls. Another evening is in Steiner's (Alain Cuny)
penthouse, a wealthy intellectual. Consumed by self-doubt and fleeting
happiness, he is unable to enjoy his success. Still another evening
is spent with a famous actress named Sylvia (Anita Ekberg). With the
advent of dawn, she, too, returns to home to her boyfriend. Away from
the nightlife of Via Veneto, he finds himself caught up in the carnival
spectacle of a false sighting of the Virgin Mary (an episode that
is also recounted in Nights of
Cabiria). Soon the empty evenings seem to weave together into
some decadent rhythm, punctuated only by the regret of the following
morning. Fellini visually conveys the cycle through stairs: the descent
to a prostitute's flooded basement apartment, the climb to a church
tower, the walk to a public fountain, the exploration of an unoccupied
section of the princess dowager's estate. Thematically, the film begins
and ends with the same incident: Marcello, unable to hear the cryptic
message, returns to his latest distraction... perhaps still dreaming
of attaining the elusive sweet life.

8
1/2 weaves fluidly through the visually intoxicating landscape
of Federico Fellini's subconscious, seemingly to seek inspiration
and validation for his life and work. In an opening scene that symbolizes
much of Fellini's films, a suffocating man, trapped inside his car,
inexplicably begins to float into the skies, only to be abruptly
tugged back to the ground. But it is also an indelible image that
shatters any preconceived illusion of "typical" elements
in a Fellini film. The film, 8 1/2,
literally marks Fellini's work on 8 1/2 feature films (the "1/2"
derived from collaborative direction films), and proves to be a
transitional film in his artistic career. In addition to being his
final film shot in black and white, the subtle forms and religious
iconography of his earlier neorealist films have been replaced by
precisely composed, comic absurdity and exaggerated, hyperbolic
imagery - of what was to become his signature, Felliniesque,
style. His alter-ego on this surreal, introspective journey is Guido
Anselmi (Marcello Mastroianni), a successful director of films "without
hope" who takes a holiday at an exclusive health spa in order
to overcome a creative dry spell. But Guido is not a suffering,
tortured artist. He is narcissistic and self-indulgent, preferring
to spend his time networking with wealthy resort patrons and arranging
liaisons with his oversexed mistress, Carla (Sandra Milo) than in
formulating ideas for his next film. In fact, Guido's words prove
hypocritical and contrary to all his actions. His creative retreat
is spent surrounded by people who are most familiar with him: his
mistress, his wife Luisa (Anouk Aimee), his producer (Guido Alberti),
and several actors who want to appear in his film. He claims to
be in the process of creating a simple film that "would bury
all that was dead" between Luisa and him, but approves plans
to construct an elaborate movie set for a science fiction film.
He supplements his mineral water treatments with cigarettes and
alcohol, leading a life of excess instead of undergoing physical
(and psychological) cleansing and purification. Unable to derive
inspiration from his chaotic environment, he immerses himself in
the distraction of childhood memories and indulgent fantasies: conversing
with an emotionally inaccessible father; reciting the magic words
to a hidden treasure; sneaking out of class to watch the carefree
Saraghina (Eddra Gale) perform a sensual dance; attempting to tame
the women in his life using circus props. In essence, Guido is searching
for balance: between childhood traumas and idealism, the sensual
and the intellectual, artistic integrity and commercial success.
Inevitably, Guido is as much a reflection of Fellini as he is of
ourselves: striving for greatness, only to achieve the ordinary
and familiar... with episodes of momentary abstraction in between.